a shooting star crossed the sky
by carsonnieve
Summary: 「(I've known you for forever and you've been here a while ago.) 」


_hi! this is a work for the pezberry secret santa 2019 and i'm a bit late but... at least it is here._

_it is also based on two spanish songs of one of my favorite artists; andrés suárez (the songs are "voy a volver a quererte" and "vuelve" if you want to hear them) and don't worry i translated them so you know what they're about._

_enjoy your reading!_

* * *

537 miles; the physical separation between two hearts which used to meet in the middle in a city where secrets and lots, lots of memories were hidden. **New York**. The city that shouted and silenced love at the same time. The city that was full of notes and chords which now are sleeping. The city that met caresses and promises, the same ones that now are forgotten. The city that lived a bit calmer somehow, but the streets had become blue, even at nights, no matter how much a shooting star could light up the buildings.

The brunette got to New York for the first time in years since she graduated. Guitar in hand. Fighting for a dream and with a lot of fear inside of er. Fear of running into ghosts from the past and fear of being drowned by the memories that lived in that same city where those were being held; at clubs, parks, restaurants, University, her room, her bed… She was so scared. And she couldn't help it. Especially when she turned around a corner and saw her. She left New York for her hometown for a reason, to keep working in something she wasn't passionate about, except for the weekends when she traveled to do what she loved the most. Music. Her music. The only thing that filled her nowadays.

She got to her best friend's Christmas party, who lived right in the city center with her girlfriend. She loved spending time with her. Tho, there was only one thing she wasn't fond of and it was the idea of seeing her any second. Seeing her caused a million different sensations inside her chest, the worst part of all was not being able to describe them. Quinn wanted her to play at her party, not just to enjoy it but also give it this intimate touch the blonde wanted so she could announce her engagement properly. Because there was a reason the party was happening besides Christmas of course and that was Quinn's soon-to-be wedding. And the mere thought of it made the brunette vomit. It wasn't her fault she had stopped believing in something that before the events happened was so exciting. Something that had been ripped away from her just like a picture can be torn from a photo album when its meaning wasn't important any longer. But she was happy for them. She really was. She was happy for her friends, for those who were together for 7 years now and weren't ashamed of anything and didn't regret a single thing of their relationship. That was something Santana couldn't say.

Because Santana Lopez once had a relationship with the person she still considered her true love for five long years before she left New York to go back to her hometown and distance had become a reality. And therefore, a lot of fights, most of them meaningless, until both of them realized the bigger issue and one single fight became too much and they stopped talking for a week and the worst part was the fact that they didn't miss each other at all. Right there was when they knew the end had come. An end who wrote itself down.

An end that Santana hadn't wanted to write, or compose, or be conscious about it until one evening, as she was laying down her bed and playing her guitar; she broke down. Tears filled her eyes and started to run down her cheeks. Right there, in that exact moment, she'd realized that she missed her terribly. That she wanted her to** come back**. That she was alone. That she lived alone. That, nights without her were scary and that she still loved her, even when it was weird to do so.

The first few months had felt like torture. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the silhouette of a brunette, the smile she fell in love with when she was 18 years old on her lips and the small dimples forming on her cheeks, the ones that she kept wanting to kiss because she was just too adorable. But she'd ended up like always, drowning in the taste of coffee with a touch of milk that felt like breakfast at home that invaded her eyes, which sweetness was non-existent. Just like her heartbeat. That was how she had felt every time she opened her eyes, as if it didn't exist.

That's why when she put a foot into New York she started to feel her heartbeat again. She heard how it was still alive in that same neighborhood she had abandoned two years ago. It felt right to know some part of her was still alive somehow, even when she dropped it just like a piece of clothing gets lost in the woods. Maybe, because of that, she felt a tiny trace of hope. Even when she knew she was in Los Angeles. That she moved there and who probably would be living with her new partner, who knew if she even had a ring in her finger already.

"San, you have to stop thinking about what hurts you."

She stopped playing with the strings of her guitar right when she heard Quinn stepping into the living room where she was laying down, looking at the ceiling and playing… who the hell knew what she was playing. She looked to her side to find the blonde's figure against the kitchen's door frame looking back at her. Her eyes were practically screaming the same things she has heard for the past two years and she didn't need to hear it again. Santana stopped her before she even got a chance to speak.

"I'm not doing it. I'm not calling her."

"You know she's here, right?"

Santana thought she's never stood up as quickly as she did right there. "_How? She's here? But why?"_ She frowned and opened her mouth to speak but immediately closed it, she had nothing to say. She just wanted to leave, to go back to her hometown. "_Why the hell did I leave Ohio anyway?"_ The brunette closed her eyes and sighed, running a hand through her hair and shaking her head.

"She's Jessica's best friend, Santana. What were you expecting? That she didn't come to her best friend's engagement party? I knew if I told you you wouldn't have come…" Quinn crossed the room and reached out to her, placing both of her hands on the brunette's arms, stroking them to calm down the girl's nerves that suddenly were bursting into her body just like the tears were filling her eyes. "Get mad at me if you want to, scream at me as much as you would but Jess has the right to have her best friend here just like I do so please, don't leave."

"How am I going to look at her face, Q? What am I supposed to do? The last time I spoke to her it was to scream that we were nothing."

"And I think you've tortured yourself enough for two years and a half for you to keep thinking about it. Santana… people have offered you to stay here, in New York, to finally live your dream and you rejected the proposition because being in this city hurts you."

"It hurts me because I lived the best years of my life right here before I went back to a place where I thought I belonged to and distance screwed it up. I screwed it up when I didn't move to LA when she asked me to. I can't live here. Not where I was so happy, Quinn. I just can't."

"They've asked you again, haven't they?"

Santana looked down and clenched her jaw. She closed her eyes for a second and nodded without saying a word. Producers were interested in her for years, in her music, in selling her facet of singer-songwriter and still, she has rejected it every single time because the main requisite of the contract was to live in New York. And she hasn't wanted to. She hasn't wanted to because she knew she could run into her on the streets of the city that never sleeps. Because she was one of the most known singers in the country and even though she lived in LA, she always spent time in New York. On shows, in photoshoots. Running into her would have been a matter of time. It would have happened.

"Do it for yourself. Think of what's good for you for once in your life. Stop thinking of what could happen and start thinking of what's fucking good for you. This is a life change. Your chance to make it right. Your songs are amazing, you have people who believe in you, an entire community that supports you and friends and family who love you and will always be at your side. For God's sake, forget her. She's gone. She's not here. Yes, you'll run into her a couple of times. Today and at the wedding. But that's it." Santana shook her head once again and Quinn sighed, losing her patience with the girl and holding her by the chin, so the brunette was looking at her.

"It's not that easy."

"And if you don't want to because you're still in love with her, then** fight.** She's here on her own, Santana. She's single. She's not visiting us anymore for a reason, think about it…"

The brunette looked into her eyes and in that exact moment, she knew Quinn wasn't saying that because she just wanted the Latina to feel good about it. She was being serious and still, she didn't know what to do. She was confused. She stood frozen. And because of her, because of that damn girl, she felt her heart beating again somewhere lost in New York.

—💔—

She hasn't shown up yet. And if she has, Santana hasn't seen her yet. She already sang a few of her songs and also the ones that Quinn asked her to do. She was tensed in case she'd see her any moment from now. The brunette just stopped singing "Love Song", her acoustic version of the song for Quinn and Jess, she spent the entire song looking at them with a smile on her face because she knew it was their song since Jess met Quinn when the blonde was singing it on one of her karaoke nights, free from college, with the girls out of town.

Both girls kissed in front of everyone after that song was played and announced their engagement in front of everybody. Santana clapped along the rest of the guests before placing the microphone on the mic stand and going down the tiny stage that Quinn put for her.

"San! Hey! Where do you think you're going?", Quinn asked coming from out of nowhere, stopping Santana from continue walking, with her guitar on her back and about to grab a drink to start enjoying the party as if she was one of her friends, which she was, and not just some singer Quinn hired for the party. "You have to sing your new song, please. The last one and I'll let you enjoy, I promise."

"Q, you've heard it, it's not the perfect song for this kind of party. And you already know that."

"But we want you to sing it, please."

Santana sighed and ended up accepting her petition because the blonde kept looking at her with that puppy face no one could say no to. She knew that singing that song would be… the hardest thing. It was so personal. So deep. Especially when she ended up remembering and missing everything once the first verse was sung. She ended accepting because of her, it was her party after all. She couldn't just refuse to do it. So she turned around and went back to the stage, to the place she belonged, guitar in hand and again, the mic in front of her. Even if there were 50 people or so in front of her it felt as special as if it were… 17.000, singing her songs. "One day, San… One day."

She took a deep breath again, turned on the mic and took her time to get ready. It was the hardest song to perform. She didn't even know why Quinn wanted her to sing something like that unless the blonde was getting bored of everyone and wanted to throw them out of her house, making them sad and cry on their way home. She played a few chords and took a step closer to the mic to say a few words before she started to sing.

"Well… my favorite bitch just asked me to sing one more song and decided to be the last for today. I don't know if it's the right song to perform in such a happy environment, actually, I don't even know why she wants me to sing this one but, before I start, I want you all to feel like I feel when I sing this song. We've all lost someone important in our lives. In my personal experience, I let the love of my life fly away from me a few years ago and… since I'm a songwriter and not only a singer, I wrote something about it when I realized I wasn't over it. So… I hope you enjoy this." Santana took a step back to start playing the tune of the song until she realized she forgot to say something important. "Oh, and by the way, this is in Spanish, so if you don't understand this… sorry. You all know I'm a fierce Latina and my feelings needed to speak in my language for once. But I still want you all to enjoy this."

Santana began to play the guitar as if she was caressing it, feeling the chords deep inside her. The composition that was her own, whose melody was like a thorn and whose lyrics, along with its notes, made the listeners know a little more about her. She closed her eyes for a moment, picturing in her mind that she was alone, even when she heard nothing but silence. When the first words came out of her mouth, it felt like a whisper.

_Vuelve que te estoy confundiendo con las flores_

_que adornan los defectos de las casas..._

_Donde aún hablo de ti._

_(Come back because I'm confusing you with the flowers_

_that embroider the flaws of the houses…_

_Where I still talk about you.)_

She opened his eyes again and noticed her two friends, the same ones who were getting married in a matter of months, hugging as they listened to the brunette singing and venting, especially that because she was getting everything off of her chest.

Flowers ... She would do anything to have the chance to buy her flowers again, purple roses, those that hid the meaning of eternity, that embroider her balcony in Los Angeles when she was surprised by the florist on days whose meaning was nonexistent. She did it because she wanted to. Because she lived for the smile that formed on those lips that she missed so much. Because she loved talking about her and how lucky she was to share her life with a person as special as she was. Because talking about Los Angeles was like getting lost in a song without a title and ending, like getting lost in instruments and getting lost in melodies. Melodies that eventually ended up being about her name and her life.

_Vuelve y vuélvete a reír mientras bailamos,_

_y riégame el jardín que ya no llueve._

_Mañana hay una fiesta y me ha invitado_

_el ron a hacerme daño,_

_a hablarle a otras mujeres_

_del cielo de tus labios._

_(Come back and laugh again while we dance,_

_and water my garden 'cause it's not raining._

_Tomorrow there's a party and the rum invited me to keep hurting myself,_

_(to talk to other women about the heaven of your lips.)_

Her lips. The same ones that opened a bit when her thumb brushed his lower lip, delineating the corner of her mouth, drawing with her fingers the shape of it, the mouth that she used to kiss day after day, hour after hour without an excuse. Even the laughter that escaped her lips when they danced like an idiot did not stop her from wanting to make her see how much she loved her. When they were together everything was like that, everything revolved around them. No. Better yet. They were the ones that turned and everything around them ceased to exist. They slowed time when the hands of the clock touched twelve o'clock. Her body against hers. Her mouth in hers.

Fuck. How she missed getting lost in her.

And not in the rum that was waiting for her at the lounge table next to ... the redhead who kept eyeing her, for some reason. She knew herself very well and knew that if she drank too much that night, she would end up talking about her and the heaven of her lips, about how much she wanted to brush them against her own and to lose herself in the softness of her waves. To focus on the calmness that were her lips. To surf on them when the highest wave reached. To unbalance, fall and then get up again.

To lose.

To fall in love.

_Ahora que vivo sola me crecen tus enanos._

_Me dan miedo las noches._

_Te quiero, pero es raro._

_(Now that I live on my own everything reminds me of you._

_I'm scared of the nights._

_I love you, but it's weird.)_

She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the dark nights of the first days. When she woke up and the first thing she saw was the wall of her room and not the face of the brunette. She had gotten used to waking up on her own minutes before the alarm clock did and watched her sleep, calm, hugging her pillow when she wasn't hugging her or resting in her chest. Therefore, the first night alone, she was afraid. It felt strange. Her skin yearned for the other's. She could even feel her touch because of the times her touch formed traces on her body. The same ones that she thought were permanent and ended up being erased over time passed.

She reached the point of ... of feeling invisible. Of wanting to be invisible in the eyes of the others. She lived tormented, she lived with fear. That fear of not being able to feel the same. To forget what it was like to fall in love with someone and perceive the magic that she transmitted. She wanted to be invisible so that her family and friends would stop seeing her like this. So, she could suffer in silence.

She loved her. She was in love with her. The worst part of it was that she felt weird for doing so since she couldn't help feeling guilty about the way it all ended. To think that she could still be with her if she hadn't been so stubborn, immediate tears filled her eyes...

Maybe that's why she saw kind of blurry and her voice ended up broken for a second.

**_Te conozco de siempre y llegaste hace un rato._**

**_(I've known you for forever and you've been here a while ago.)_**

When she opened her eyes, she didn't know what to do. She froze on that stage, guitar in hand as she was still being able to play those chords that transmitted every note stored inside her. People took it as a simple pause. For Santana it was completely different. Her lips slightly parted. Somehow, words wanted to come out, but her body didn't let them escape.

She was lost.

And again, she was scared.

Because she had fallen into the coffee of her eyes after two and a half years without drinking her favorite addiction. She had fallen on her nose. She had fallen on her slightly parted lips. She had fallen in the chocolate path of her hair. It had grown, in fact, it was so long that the waves of her hair fell down her right shoulder, leaving the left uncovered. Letting her see her bare skin. Then she noticed her, her expression of surprise and how she, later, swallowed and raised her gaze to continue watching her performance as if she was guest more. She was afraid to believe that the tears she was noticing flood her eyes were a product of her imagination and that it wasn't happening.

She was so scared to believe that seeing Rachel for the first time in years was really a dream.

But she was there. In front of her. Well, at the last row, close to the door and with a glass of wine in her hand. Santana breathed deeply for a moment, playing the chords of her guitar before letting her voice fill the room once again.

_Nieve, te cambio por tu ausencia en los lavabos_

_Me cuido menos, debería dejarlo_

_Como tú me dejaste..._

_(Snow, I'm changing it for your absence in the toilets,_

_I take less care of myself, I should leave it_

_just like you left me…)_

It was true. She took less care of herself. She had stopped worrying about so many things and one of them was her own life. If that were not the case, at this point in her life, she would be in New York working on her music and triumphing. With a bright future ahead of her or even already living her dream. Or something much worse. That phrase reminded her of when Quinn found her drunk at home, bottle of alcohol in hand, she didn't even remember what it was exactly because she was broke enough to care about what she was drinking. It could be bleach, at that point she didn't care anymore.

She remembered the feeling of going back to her apartment in New York to finish gathering her stuff to finally move back home and finding the brunette's empty drawers. Not even her singing instruments were there. She was gone. Without a goodbye. There was no trace of her in that house where they had lived so much. A small tear slid down her cheek as soon as she remembered that moment, closing her eyes for a second to try to recover and continue with what she was doing. If there was something true, it was all she had felt and still felt even if two and a half years had passed.

What was not true, was the last line of her song. It was not Rachel who left her. It was the opposite, she already knew that. But she felt her absence as who felt their own pulse with only two fingers on their wrist. But what the brunette did leave was her trace and her essence in her. Her touch on her skin and her hobbies on her head. She left everything behind her when she left, leaving the blonde to do what she wanted with that.

_Puedes quedarte con la playa y los abrazos. _

_Te lo llevaste todo, yo hago barcos y miro a la ventana. _

_Puede ser que vuelvas otra vez y hagamos Navidad _

_Y te roce la piel una estrella fugaz._

_(You can keep the beach and the hugs._

_You took everything, I make boats and I stare out the window._

_There's a chance you might come back, and we make Christmas_

_and a shooting star brushes your skin.)_

She could keep everything she wanted; the trips to the south with her family, the escapades to her favorite small bay in Los Angeles where their bodies were lost in the calm of the waves, in that ocean that kept so many secrets. She could keep the hugs in the hardest moments, in the happiest and in those that occurred simply because they wanted to feel protected. She could keep everything around her because what she didn't know was that she already took it all a long time ago. Leaving an irreplaceable void behind and a darkness with a small lamp in the center, but without enough oil to turning it on.

Yes, there were times when Santana said she could come back. That she could meet her again and start again in her favorite time of the year, well, it was Rachel's as well. Each Christmas at her side was as defined by the most chessy and ridiculous television commercials; "Something new to discover and something magical". The magic flooded the place when the best gift arrived in the form of a kiss on December 31 at twelve o'clock at night while a shooting star passed through the most precious constellations of a starry night and both took the opportunity to make the same wish.

Maybe their mistake was to say it out loud and cause it not to come true.

_Ayer te pude ver. _

_Creo que eras más feliz._

_Me dio por recordar..._

_Una puesta de sol en Galicia, _

_El flamenco y tu ropa en el coche, _

_La cadera sudando sin prisa, _

_Otra estrella fugada en la noche. _

_Cuídate, nos debemos la vida. _

_Vuelve pronto y se fue con las flores._

_(I saw you yesterday._

_I think you were happier than before._

_It reminded me…_

_Of a sunset in Galicia,_

_the Flamenco and your clothes in the car,_

_your hip sweating slowly,_

_and another star escaping the night._

_Take care, we owe ourselves our lives._

_Come back soon and you left with the flowers.)_

She crossed her path one night. It was not in New York, it was in Galicia. On their vacation alone for the first time, and they happened to casually crossed paths in Spain. Santana walked quietly with her cousin on the streets of A Coruña as soon as the brunette passed by her side with a boy's hand in hers, laughing and running a hand through her hair. She had not seen her. She hadn't even noticed her. And Santana could swear her heart broke into a thousand pieces. She saw her happy, smiling as she used to do with her but in another's.

A second was enough time to remember everything she had lived with her in their relationship. She remembered kisses as they watched the sunset in one of her favorite places in her hometown while she hugged her tight, so she wasn't feeling cold in the middle of winter. She remembered taking the car to drive hours and hours on the highway and roads until she reached Los Angeles, trips on sometimes she started to sing something. Although she didn't want to recognize it, Santana knew that Rachel could succeed as a singer if she wanted to, which she did in the future. She had a wonderful voice. She remembered stopping the car to spread kisses on her body in a roadside motel. They were two idiots in love without any control over their actions. They didn't care about the consequences, they just wanted to live life. Live it with the other.

Santana remembered so much and forgot so little. But instead of talking to her like her cousin insisted to do, she simply shook his head, looking away from her steps to continue her way, wishing she did well in life and took care of herself. The desire for her comeback became another escape and with different flowers, already unknown to the Latina, while another shooting star crossed the night sky.

Only this time she made no wish.

_Te juraré una vida nueva._

_Te llevaré volando a Cádiz._

_Sabrás decir que sí._

_(I'll promise you a new life._

_I'll take you flying to San Francisco._

_You'll say yes.)_

She had fixed her gaze on her again while singing. Because she no longer cried her sorrows as she had previously done, she simply sang of her desire to relive everything with her again. In a new stage. Doing everything they did not do back on the days they were together. She wanted to promise her all the love in the world, which she had kept for years only to deliver it to the person she loved the most in the world. The one in front of her and the one she was singing the song she didn't want her to hear at first because of her possible reaction.

And as soon as she saw a tear fall down her cheek and Rachel suddenly wiping it off so that she didn't notice, she wanted to be the one to do it, just before taking the girl to San Francisco as they had said so many times but Rachel refused to go because it always happened at the least indicated times. But Santana felt that this time they had all the time in the world and wanted to take her to San Francisco, San Diego, Beverly Hills, Winters, anywhere in California and even cross borders so that the rest of the world knew what the Latina felt for her.

_Me harás un puzle con dos piezas _

_De ropa inundando la almohada _

_Luego te haré reír. _

_Háblame, volvamos a escribirnos con los pies._

_(You'll make me a puzzle with two pieces_

_of clothing above the pillow._

_Then I'll make you laugh._

_Talk to me, let's write each other with our feet.)_

A half smile settled on her lips as she closed her eyes because of the meaning of those lines. She missed the eternal nights beside her, where they talked and wrote in every possible way, except verbally. She loved her body language. She loved getting lost in her body to solve all the riddles the brunette offered her. She loved knowing the result and getting lost in it, acting as if she didn't know it, until getting it right against his lips in a groan. She loved the previous moments, with her fingers brushing her ribs, starting a laugh from Rachel because she knew where to touch to tickle her. She loved to make her smile and hear her laugh. She loved loving her again the only way she knew how.

And right there, as she sang, she loved the smile on Rachel's lips as she heard the lyrics.

_Llegarás tarde, quizá colocada, _

_Hablaremos de todo, nos reiremos por nada , _

_Sabré besarte esta vez. _

_Y al llegar al parque habrá un cometa loco _

_Y un sostén volando._

_(You'll be late, maybe a bit high,_

_we'll talk about everything and we'll laugh for no reason,_

_I'll know how to kiss you this time._

_And when we'll get to the park there will be a crazy kite_

_and a bra flying.)_

She remembered those parties where both lost control and ended up drunk, in each other's arms, talking about any nonsense that crossed their heads and laughing for nothing or meaningless things. She loved those nights. Those little moments were when their love seemed to be made uniquely and expressly for them. Their kisses were very clumsy because of how drunk they were and knew that the next day Santana would be embarrassed to admit it and always promised that when the next party comes, she would know how to kiss her properly.

A small laugh escaped her mouth as soon as she remembered the time the tiny brunette threw her bra in the middle of the park, for no reason, simply because she was uncomfortable – and drunk, honestly. The mere memory crossing her mind made her smile nostalgic because she saw that bra the next day on a branch of a tree next to a lost kite.

_Voy a volver a quererte, _

_Voy a llenarte de notas, voy a dejarte tranquila, _

_Mi vida ahora duerme. _

_Voy a volver a esperarte, aunque no vuelvas del todo, _

_Voy a rogarte hasta que otro llene tu cuarto menguante. _

_Voy a volver a quererte, voy a robarte hasta el alba._

_(I'll love you again._

_I'm going to fill you with melodies. I'm going to leave you be._

_My life now sleeps._

_I'm going to wait for you, even if you don't come back at all._

_I'm going to beg you until another fills your waning room._

_I'll love you again, I'm going to steal your dawn.)_

She had no doubt about it. Santana was going to love her forever. Whatever happened, Rachel had a part of her. That is why she would continue writing notes that the tiny brunette would never get. Composing songs that she would never listen to. She was going to fill her with melodies and songs that instead of being hers, happened to be for both. Because the inspiration came in the form of Barbra Streisand's songs echoing through the room. Her inspiration had a name and surname. It also had a city. But above all she had another melody, the one Rachel was living while Santana's life slept, waiting for her.

She knew she would always wait for her because if there was something she knew; it was that her love had no expiration date. Even if she did not come back at all as she wanted, no matter how much she begged, no matter how much she saw her happy in the arms of another person, who would be in charge of filling her new room with new memories, replacing her own and making happy the girl who changed her life forever. She wanted to love her again, prove her that and make her feel everything Santana was feeling at that same moment and show every feeling she had been holding inside year after year without her. She wanted to get her everything. Every sunset lost; every shooting star lost in the night. Every wish that didn't come true.

**_Voy a dejarte indicada la estrella nuestra de siempre._**

**_(I'm going to leave you our star.)_**

She sang very sweet, her eyes closed as she played the last chords of her song. The soft strings of her guitar under his fingers. She didn't know if her star was still asleep, waiting for her to finally have the courage to face the girl and talk to her. But just in case, she wanted to tell her where the star was because, even if it was asleep and dull, it was clear that it had not disappeared and that it was still there, waiting for the light to return, and love too.

Santana sighed as soon as she finished playing, opening her eyes to find nothing. She was gone. She left. She said a simple "thank you" to the applause received and stepped off the stage. Maybe she wasn't there from the beginning and everything has been in her head as a product of her imagination. But if there was something that Santana knew; was that she needed to leave, take a walk through the streets of New York with her guitar hanging on her back while thinking about everything and at the same time nothing. She could not believe that everything has been a product of her imagination.

"Q…"

"San! You've been spectacular", she said, wiping away the tears that managed to escape from her eyes as she hugged the Latina, who, by the way, wasn't seeing Jessica anywhere and she'd like to say her goodbyes.

"Thank you, bitch. ¿Where's Jess?", she asked, waiting for a response, but before the blonde had a chance to speak, she shook her head and made her stop, she'd say her goodbyes another time or the next day. "It doesn't matter, tell her that it's been an amazing engagement party and that I'm very happy for you two girls, okay? I need to leave, walk to the hotel calmly and… I don't know, I need to breathe."

"No, wait. Why so soon?", Quinn followed her to the main door, she didn't want her to leave, not yet, that was pretty clear, but Santana needed to leave the place.

"I promise to come back tomorrow. I swear. I love you, have a great night."

The Latina pecked her cheek and put her jacket on, then left, with the guitar on her back. Finally breathing fresh air.

—💔—

Her steps were barely inaudible compared to her thoughts. And to add some more drama to that moment in her life, it was raining a little and she carry an umbrella with her. Great. Now she would have to leave as quickly as possible and take refuge in different places, so her guitar didn't get wet no matter if it was inside the case. But still, her thoughts spoke louder than the crowded streets of New York. She could not believe that everything had been a product of her imagination. That she was singing a song, her song, in front of so many people simply because her best friend wanted her to. Above all, she could not believe that, for so long, the feeling was still inside her chest. As if she had never left. And what made her angrier was that she couldn't believe she wasn't really there.

"I did see you!"

She stopped her footsteps and looked up from the ground. Fuck, she was very afraid to turn around. She was afraid that, again, what she had just heard was her head creating illusions and that that voice did not come from the person she thought it was. Anyway, what Santana heard was quite far away, as if she was running towards her. She swallowed and shook her head, ready to go on her way. Surely it was nothing.

"You passed by me in Galicia two years ago when I went with my cousin, you even brushed my arm with yours ..."

That time she did turn around, only to find the tiny brunette walking the last meters towards her as she fastened the last buttons of her jacket. Santana was frozen. She could not move. She could not believe that she was in front of her, that she had gone out to look for her, that she went to the party in the first place. What was she doing out with her? Why was she there, talking to her, reminding her of moments from the past that not even Santana knew had happened? She took a deep breath and stood still, she simply put her hands in the pockets of her pants as she watched her closely.

"Of course, I noticed. I noticed the second I saw your hair from afar. But I tried to cover it up and yet, I couldn't help but turn around to see you walking away from me."

At that point, Rachel was in front of her, her eyes still teary and she was also swallowing back everything she was holding inside. She saw how nervous she was, she saw her as she expressed herself, she still knew her well enough to know that her hands were shaking, and they kept moving when she tried to explain something. Still, she shut up. She stood before her, looking at her eyes, her lips pursing and her jaw somewhat tensed as she tried to find the right words to response what she'd say.

"I was doing fine, you know? I could go to New York without thinking of you. Or so I thought. Because wherever I go, I remember every single thing lived with you. Our walks through the park, your obsession with singing to me in the middle of Times Square and getting everyone's attention. I remembered your smiles when I took your hand in front of the people you hate; I remember your eyes fixed on mine when you walked out of class and saw me there. I remember your lips on mine…" Santana swallowed, her eyes filling with tears as she kept listening. She couldn't believe her words. She couldn't believe it was actually happening. "In every photoshoot I pictured you were there, behind the camera, like you were so many times in our room… In every plane I took back home I remembered how we traveled through California in your car. In every purple rose I remembered your meaning to it."

"Rachel, I—"

"You left me." Santana closed her eyes when those words hit her and she sighed, shaking, lookind down at the ground. "You left me on the phone, on a fucking phone call, right before you finished moving. Before I even started moving. From a tiny little fight, you made a whole world about it and ended being a bigmouth as always. But you know what's the worst thing about it? That we stopped talking after that fight. Because we thought it was serious, and damn right it was.

"I'm sorry…"

"I don't need your apologies. I don't want them. I don't need you to keep apologizing for what you've done in the past." Santana noticed the way she shook her head and ran her hand through her wet hair, that was when she realized the rain was getting worse, and, also, when a sigh left her lips. "You what's worse? I kindly accepted to come here even knowing you'd be here because I got over you. I have forgotten you."

Santana also ran a hand through her wavy hair and closed her eyes after hearing those words. Her tears were not seen because of the raindrops on her face. She took a step back and almost turned around to leave again. As she always does.

"But then I saw you on stage doing what you love. Singing what's in your heart in a song that… that defines perfectly what we both felt these two years and a half." Santana stopped immediately after that and looked up, for once, to watch the tiny brunette as she spoke. She didn't even notice her voice had that shakiness she also had, nor noticed her eyes filled with tears but some of them were already running down her face until they touched the ground, confused and camouflaged in the rain. "I realized that after so many years you're even more beautiful than before."

"Rachel, don't. Please." The Latina begged when she saw her getting closer and closer.

"I also realized that even if I didn't want it to, my heart was still beating in an amazing increase when I heard you sing. That the promise we both made to enjoy your 25 as if they were your 18… never happened. That the drink I had in my hand back at the party you weren't the one to bring it. That you still make my whole word stopped existing as soon as your eyes are fixed on mine."

Santana closed her eyes as soon as she noticed the closeness. As soon as she noticed Rachel resting her forehead against hers and catching air, her hands placed in her arms to slowly guide them to her hips, so that she would hug her somehow. But the Latina could not stop crying, she had no strength, and if it wasn't for Rachel making her put her arms around her waist so that she would be close to her she could have remained immobile. She couldn't believe everything that was coming out of her lips, she couldn't believe anything at all.

Rachel's hands ended up on her neck, raising Santana's head by touching her chin to let her know she needed her to look into her eyes. Which was what Santana did, opened her eyes to look into hers as she shook her head because of what was happening.

"Because in just four minutes of you singing you made me realize that I don't want my life composition to go on its own, I want you to write the lyrics with me and also let the melody compose itself."

She brushed her lips against hers and Santana noticed a small shiver running up her spine and knew that it wasn't because of the rain nor the cold of the night. It was because of her lips brushing slightly against hers. The Latina looked into her eyes and decided to not give a damn about anything, because in just a second she fully touched her lips with hers and kissed her as she had wanted to do for so long.

It was a small kiss, tender, and very very slow. Because she needed to enjoy that moment and go back to feel what she used to feel when the only thing that minded was her mouth. When love found her every time Rachel touched her and fate was not mistaken because it was already lost in her mouth. Her lower lip was between hers and, finally, her hands started to move and stopped being immobile to end up on her lower back, pulling her close to start deepening the kiss as Rachel's fingers tangled in her hair, kissing her back just as fiercely.

She lost the battle. Since her lips touched hers again, she lost every will in her body to forget what happened with Rachel. She missed her so much… How the hell was she going to let her go now? She couldn't. It was impossible. She didn't have enough will to do so.

She pulled away from the kiss because her lungs needed to breathe and gain new air. Because she was too busy breathing in her. Once again, she brushed her nose against hers and left a tiny little kiss on her lips with a hand still on her cheek. As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw how beautiful her brown eyes were and how still they reminded her of the coffee she used to drink every morning. If she left, if there was a chance Santana would leave that ship forever, even if her wound was still opened, the love she felt in that same moment closed it, because with a simple kiss she asked her to say.

"Promise me you'll never give up if I let you go."

It was just a whisper from the tiny brunette against her lips, but enough to know that she didn't want her to leave, she wanted her to stay and continue their relationship. She wanted that the promise they made stayed under the night's sky, now starry and not rainy, of an April 13th. Santana nodded to that, kissing her lips once again to promise the only way she knew how.

"I love you. I've never stopped loving you." The Latina finally spoke, pulling away from her lips and caressing her cheeks, wiping away the tears that managed to escape from her eyes while they were kissing, not noticing that Rachel was doing the same with her.

"And I love you too… I love you so much."

Santana smiled, happily in love, for the first time in forever and she was about to kiss her again once she noticed the light on her face, from the sky, which made her look up and see the star. Their star. The only one who lighted up when she was with Rachel. And a shooting star crossed the night sky, lightning up the darkness on its path. She closed her eyes to make a wish and once she did, she went back to look at the tiny brunette she loved.

"What did you ask for?"

Santana simply shook her head and kissed her again, caressing her cheeks. She didn't want to mess with luck or fate right now and in the future. It was for the better if she didn't. The wish she asked for, the wish she made to that star was her secret. Even if it was made to their star.

"You'll know."

She didn't ask to that star that travelled across the sky to make people's whishes come true in just a second, turning each wish into something ephemeral. Into something quick and simple. Santana didn't want that.

Because her wish wasn't brief or any of that.

She didn't ask it to a falling star. Neither a shooting one.

Because they weren't falling.


End file.
